Identity
by idioticonion
Summary: Traumatised by Penny's death, Billy's mind is at breaking point. *Very* adult, written for the prompt: Horrible/Hammer, darkfic.


Her funeral…

There are a _lot_ of people here. More people than he expected, and that makes him feel weirdly guilty. He's hemmed in, standing by her grave, dressed incognito. His secret identity: Billy…

Captain Tool hangs back. When the other mourners look at him (if they look at him) it's with sneers and recriminations. _He_ didn't save her. He didn't play his part.

He wasn't _The Hero_.

Billy can stand, inconspicuous and yet hovering over Penny's grave like the angel of death. No one recognises him.

Captain Hammer dresses down but everyone knows who he is. The brown t-shirt is gone, replaced by a hoodie, the mirror of Billy's own.

It's probably even the same size. Billy's never been good at working out that sort of thing: Fashion, the external world. He just picks the first thing he sees that looks serviceable. Grey, blue, tan, cream… blending in, staying invisible, staying underground until Doctor Horrible is needed.

He glances over his shoulder at tight-pants. The big guy is sniffling. Inside, Doctor Horrible sneers.

Billy walks away from the grave, blending into the crowd. He's a ghost. He's apart. He doesn't feel a thing.

Then something clamps down on his arm, hard; jerks him aside and out of the flow of human bodies.

"You killed her…" The voice in his ear is a low snarl, a dangerous, bestial tone.

Billy can't help but flinch. There's nothing to hide behind. He's open and exposed.

"You…" The voice repeats - a large arm encircles his neck and pulls him in to an unwelcome embrace. He's held there, in an iron grip. He has no chance of pulling free. "You…" He feels Hammer's lips brush his ear and he strains, inching away from his mouth, from the plumes of hot, damp breath that make puffs of fog in the cold, morning air.

It feels like a curse. Billy welcomes it. He deserves this.

But suddenly he's free…

Billy remains, hunched over, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

All he feels is regret.

*--*--*

He wants to get physical.

He doesn't deliberately sabotage the Desolation Ray (capital "D", capital "R") exactly. But he makes sure he's close enough to Captain douche before he uses it. Close enough to give his nemesis a chance.

Hammer grabs him, and Billy loosens up for the first time in days, the tension draining out of him as his enemy shakes him, holds him, pulls him in and keeps him there.

No resistance. Because he doesn't feel a thing.

Hammer hits him, a hard right hook across the jaw. Billy rolls with the punch while Doctor Horrible's features remain calm and collected, as if he's gathering himself to fight back.

Billy submits.

Doctor Horrible is the lab coat, the goggles, the fixed, glassy expression.

Billy welcomes it. The curse that explodes between Hammer's lips.

Hammer grabs a fistful of coat, a fingerful of flesh beneath it and he beats his enemy into the ground, slamming him again and again. He pants, each breath loud enough to blot out the distant siren and the roar of the crowd. Hammer drags Billy bodily through the concourse into the rear offices of the bank.

When they are alone, Hammer rips the goggles from his face. One lens is cracked. Billy thinks it's probably symbolic. Doctor Horrible doesn't think anything at all.

Hammer's fist comes crashing down.

His blood is almost black. It doesn't show up against Hammer's gloves.

Billy thinks it must be useful. Black and brown hide stains easier than white.

Horrible chokes on his own bodily fluids. Hammer grins and shoves his face against the cold floor tiles.

Billy's shoulder blade makes a familiar, crunching sound. Hurts like a motherf-

Hammer's face is pressed into his neck. He nips the skin gently.

Billy tenses. He opens one eye. The other is puffy and tender.

Hammer's tongue flicks over the underside of his jaw, leaving a long, wet swathe.

Billy's body pulses - pain and pleasure. He gasps out loud.

Hammer laughs.

"What are you doing?"

Hammer shoves one forearm across Billy's larynx, shutting him up. There's a beat, when Hammer stares at him, lips curled back in a snarl of fury. There's a smouldering, a burning in his eyes that Billy doesn't recognise. Then Hammer snears nastily and something changes. He shifts his weight, pulling away so that he can grab Billy by the throat, his other hand grappling at his lab coat, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his pants, ripping them in his haste and his anger and his passion.

Billy's helpless. He can barely move. Events woosh past him and he can barely keep up with them. He can't comprehend what's happening. He lets out a strangled moan as Hammer pulls down his pants and flips him on to his front.

Billy closes his eyes.

It's Doctor Horrible that opens them again.

Because for all the beatings he's taken, for all the humiliation he's suffered, for all the loss and the heartbreak, there's always revenge. Hatred. Deep, entrenched, bile. The dark fire he saw reflected in Hammer's own eyes.

Billy thinks he deserves this.

A finger, shoved inside him, not gentle - pain, painful, Captain Hammer grabs his hip hard enough to bruise.

A little piece of Billy dies right there.

Horrible snarls.

Captain Hammer laughs, triumphant. All the times that he's beat him unconscious… all the times he's foiled his plans and _this_ is what he wanted?

Horrible cries out as Hammer jabs another finger inside him, deep, probing him. It hurts at first, but then something blossoms inside him, something he's never felt. He's weak, weaker than he ever been. He snaps and breaks in two.

Hammer slams into him. Dimly, Horrible is aware he's being violated but it feels so _good_, so _right_, it's joyous and intense and Jesus Christ it fucking _hurts_ and this is what he deserves.

He's a despicable villain, after all. He's robbed. He's plundered. He's _killed_.

If you want to join the Evil League of Evil…

Horrible's eyes roll back in his head as Hammer pulls him up towards him, riding him, driving into him with such force, such speed, such rhythm that Horrible loses all conception of time and space and _where_…

Everything pulses, hurts, pulses, hurts then ohmygodshitjesusfuck….

He screams, really screams, at the top of his lungs, and he feels Hammer go rigid inside him, feels the release as his enemy comes and Doctor Horrible goes numb…

The world slowly comes back into focus, sensation, sound, light, the stench of his ray gun fritzing out somewhere close. He reaches for it and flips on to his back.

Captain Hammer knocks the gun out of his hand and laughs. "Your puny ray cannot harm me, Doctor Horrible!" He announces, zipping up his fly, as if he hadn't been fucking him hard a few moments ago.

Horrible groans. His shoulder hurts. His ass hurts. He doubts he'll be able to sit down for a week.

Motherfucker.

But he wants this. He needs this. He _deserves_ this.

He's the bad guy.

Hammer laughs and pulls him to his feet. He's going to let him go. He always let him go.

Things are back to normal, Horrible thinks. Except with… sex.

He makes his way out back, makes his escape, limping. Somewhere deep inside, Billy is whimpering.

Horrible pays it no mind. He's got work to do. Next time he meets Hammer he's going to fucking kill him.

Or fuck him.

Whatever.

Either way, it works.


End file.
